Vulnerability
by Aviantei
Summary: The only thing absolute anymore is that he's unsure.


**Vulnerability**

By: Aviantei

A _Kuroko no Basuke_ One-Shot

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><p>The only thing absolute anymore is that he's unsure.<p>

* * *

><p>Akashi Seijuro stands before his team in the locker room. It is the Winter Cup—the <em>last<em> Winter Cup he will participate in. Three years have passed since he left Teiko, two years since Seirin faced him and delivered the first loss Seijuro has ever experienced in his life.

The victories have been on and off since then, at least when his former teammates are involved. The determination of the entire Generation of Miracles skyrocketed after seeing their captain beaten, and every game where two members have faced each other has ended with a thrillingly close score. And that is something Seijuro doesn't yet know how to handle.

But he never lets it show. As far as the Rakuzan High School Basketball Club is concerned, their captain is the same as always. The only ones who may think otherwise are those who heard him scream profanities like some delinquent two years ago. He keeps his position at the loss of his certainty, and everyone still relies on him for something he no longer possesses.

His team waits expectantly. Seijuro doesn't waver. On goes the façade, out come the few words of ensured victory that define his pre-game pep talks. His hardly felt arrogance is rewarded with a resounding cheer that echoes against the locker room's pure white walls.

Seijuro leads the team to the court, an entourage befitting of an emperor. When he's far enough ahead so that they don't see, Seijuro swallows a lump that has become terribly commonplace in his throat.

* * *

><p>At halftime he's screaming in the locker room, regaining his composure during the ten-minute break, and losing it all over again by the end of the third quarter.<p>

He's scaring them, both Seirin's and his own team. He doesn't care. All he cares about is that he's being defied in the worst way he could never imagine.

It's a close game, but that only irritates Seijuro more. He could have won. He should have won. And yet it's Seirin that has the bigger score, Seirin that's cheering in the end, Tetsuya and his teammates that snatch away the victory that Seijuro took for granted.

"Thanks for the game." The words are horrendously bitter. Seijuro is able to deliver them smoothly without malice. The calm he abandoned seems to have returned. Tetsuya gives his former captain an almost pitying look across the empty space on the court between them. Seijuro scoffs and acts like his first loss isn't strangely painful yet uplifting.

It soon becomes like victory, like nothing.

* * *

><p><em>I want to make you my enemy.<em>

The words were true when he said them to Shintaro. Seijuro wanted all of his former teammates to come at him with a determination and hatred that he imagined to be surreal. Maybe that way, playing against them would be less boring.

He never expected for it to be a two-way street. To actually be a rival instead of an antagonist. To hate as well as be hated. That sort of emotion was supposed to be one-sided. And here it is, far duller than his ideal, burning in his chest.

Seijuro is unsure how to handle the feeling. Ultimately he decides it's only right to use it as his motivation. He can push forward on it, defeat Tetsuya and Seirin, and reclaim his rightful place as an absolute being.

But the opportunity isn't as soon as he would like. The next Inter High, Shutoku comes back with a vengeance to make up for their loss to Rakuzan in winter. The next winter, only a year past the loss, Ryota leads Kaijo into a long overdue series of victories that stop Seirin from even making it into the finals. The following summer, Kagami is injured to the point that Seijuro can't even justify taking a seat on the bench.

Shirogane thinks the whole disaster is good for him, even if he doesn't say it. Seijuro's parents still support him, come to all his games. He can't stand any of them. All he can think about is that he needs to play Tetsuya, can't even think of what he'll do if they graduate without ever facing each other on the court again.

And when he watches the semi-finals come to a close, Seijuro can't stop smiling because the chance is _here_.

* * *

><p>The scores are close again, and changing at such a pace that the winner will probably be determined not by skill, but the dumb luck to have scored before time runs out. It's so high paced that Seijuro actually stops thinking about everything and gets lost in the pure act of playing. He can't even spare a glance at the score, hear a word of Shirogane's advice in the breaks, get enough stimulation to slip into frustration because he's so focused on being a part of a game. And that concentration holds until the very last second.<p>

It's not Seirin shooting the buzzer beater, it's Rakuzan. Specifically, Seijuro is the one to take the shot. He thinks nothing of it until the points are scored and the game is over. He doesn't even catch on until one of his teammates pulls him into the lineup. His mouth doesn't even move because he can't accept that the game is over already.

_No. Not this. Not like this._

_This isn't what I wanted!_

Seijuro feels nothing, just like any other victory. There's no sense that he's returned to normal, that he's just the way he was two years ago. He thought this victory might mean something, especially since it avenges his first loss, shows that he can still win. Reality denies his expectation and freezes him in place on the court.

Seirin is visibly frustrated. Some are in tears. Even that can't make Seijuro respond. The only thing that does is really someone he shouldn't even notice.

Tetsuya doesn't move, either, even when both teams start retreating to their locker rooms. The two members of the Generation of Miracles look at each other. Through the silent tears, the Phantom Sixth Member smiles at his middle school captain.

Seijuro chokes up on nothing. At the very least, he knows that the victory was true. There's no way Tetsuya would just hand him a win. But even though it's his loss, Tetsuya still seems genuinely happy that Seijuro has won.

The yelling doesn't start until much later.

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><p>He finally breaks once he's in the confines of his own home, long after the closing ceremonies are done and his team finishes their ride back home. They'll meet up again within the next few days to discuss their victory and the club's future—after all, Seijuro isn't going to be there to be captain next year—but for now the trophy is in his possession, the second Winter Cup trophy that Rakuzan has possessed. Seijuro's parents aren't home yet, probably because they expected him to be out celebrating.<p>

But he isn't. And he can't. He just can't feel like this victory is cause to celebrate, even if the rest of his teammates do. After all, victory is what's expected, so it's nothing special. Losing to Tetsuya might have been better. After all, there's nothing that really makes this trophy special anyway.

Seijuro throws it across the room, and it shatters against the wall. It doesn't matter that it's not really his and that the team will be expecting it when they see each other again—they can just get a new one built anyway. He doesn't feel like leaving a mess behind, though, so he goes to pick up the pieces. Their edges are unbelievably sharp, and Seijuro feels a bite in his skin where it gets cut open.

He should let go, get some disinfectant, a bandage. He doesn't. Instead, Seijuro grips the trophy piece tighter, wondering if this is what defeat feels like. He's not sure, and is still stuck wondering even when his blood starts to make a stain on the carpet.

It's true that he's lost a few times over the past two years, but that hasn't been enough. After all, the people that he wants to have beaten him haven't, and they won't get another chance. Maybe the sting is what victory feels like instead, a persistent sensation that fades over time.

He trades the trophy piece into his other hand and squeezes harder. There are two stains on the floor, the second one almost growing large enough to combine with the first. Seijuro wonders how much blood he's already lost. Less than what he can lose without it being classified as hemorrhage. Not enough to consider an emergency.

Not forty percent.

Not a few liters.

Both of his palms sting a bit. It gets duller as the seconds pass. Is this how everything else is going to be from now on? He'll feel something for a little bit and then he'll become numb to it. Eventually he'll have felt everything, and there won't be anything else to experience. He'll be empty. Hollow. Life will have beaten him.

That's a loss he's not willing to endure.

Seijuro presses the edge of the trophy piece against his throat. It's a small cut, and only a small droplet of blood runs down his neck, staining his uniform now. It would be easy to put it down, to call someone. Tetsuya would understand. Tetsuya would listen.

He's going to lose either way. Death is a loss. Being saved seems like a loss, too. It's all pointless. At the very least, if he's going to lose, it's going to be on his own terms. No one else's. He presses it deeper, ignoring how his nerves protest from the sensation.

The next new thing Akashi Seijuro experiences is fear. It, unlike everything else, does not fade.

* * *

><p>The Generation of Miracles all come together to congratulate their former captain on their loss, and are met with a body on the floor, a sea of red.<p>

The next time they come together after that is to send him off.

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><p>Old writing is old. And when I say old, I mostly mean outdated.<p>

This was written before a lot was revealed about Akashi, so some theories are included and other canon elements are ignored: Akashi's parents are both alive and supportive, Akashi does not have dissasociative identity disorder, Akashi goes into more of a breakdown state when he's confronted by loss...things like that. Still, I liked the flow and the story would have changed significantly if I diverted to canon, so here this is in all it's inaccurate glory.

This may or may not have been inspired a little/a lot by the poem _Captain, My Captain_.

Hey, it's my first fanfiction post as being twenty-one... (sighs) I don't feel like I'm twenty-one, though.

And since I'm greatly behind on Camp NaNoWriMo I'll stop rambling and get back to work.

Thanks for reading!

[POST] 071514


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